Protection
by Celeste K. Raven
Summary: Baelfire doesn't want anymore of his father's protection.


Baelfire stepped lightly, silently cursing every branch that snapped under his weight. His bedroom window was only a couple steps away now, lit by a warm fire in the mantel place. Baelfire shivered; his breath was ice.

There was a rustling behind him and he whirled around to meet it, a small dagger gripped tightly in his left hand. His gaze rose to meet his enemy's eyes.

The mute maid.

She had a name, he was sure. Everyone had a name. Yet she had never made any attempt to communicate it to him and he had not wanted to embarrass the impoverished girl by asking her to write out message when she might not know how.

One thing she _did_ have was attitude. She stared at the young boy with one eyebrow raised as if to ask; _what gives you the right to go traipsing over my neatly trimmed bushes so close to sundown? _

Baelfire put one finger to his lips, then clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. _Don't tell Papa. Please don't tell Papa. _

The woman rolled her eyes up to the sky and, placing both hands on her hips, walked away.

Baelfire poked his tongue around his mouth, considering going after her. _Never mind. I need to get inside. _

Up on his toes, he stretched until his fingers reached the window. _Slowly… carefully…_

The glass was suddenly thrust open, causing him to lose his balance. He took a couple of shaky steps back, feet sliding in the mud.

''What are you doin' Bae?''

Baelfire turned his guilty face away from his father, much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He did not respond.

''Give me your hands.''

The child complied, allowing Rumplestiltskin to lift his son up through the window, which he did with supernatural ease. The opening was small, but so was Baelfire.

The dark-haired boy thanked his father and then sat on the bed, placing his fingers on his right eyebrow and rubbing them over his face softy, as if to sooth an itch.

_I am a fool! What am I to do now? _

There was an extended silence between the father and son. Rumplestiltskin stood calm and collected, allowing his son a chance to speak first. Baelfire kept one eye hidden and used the other to study his father, seeking out some sign of the man's mood.

''Let me see that eye, Bae,'' Rumplestiltskin said finally. He stepped forward, removed his son's hand and frowned. ''You could have used the front door,'' he commented finally.

''I thought it might be locked,'' Baelfire said.

The older man scowled. ''Don't lie to me. You snuck into your own home with a blacked eye. Why?''

_You know why. _ ''I didn't want to worry you.''

''I will always be worried about you,'' Rumplestiltskin said, like any other father would have said.

Baelfire leaned back, resting his head on the wall. His face throbbed. ''I can not spend my whole life hiding behind you, papa. Let me fight my own battles.''

''You expect me to love you? Feed you, clothe you, give you a place to call home?''

Baelfire looked at his father sharply, off put by the change of topic. ''Of course, you are my parent.''

Rumplestiltskin laughed in his odd, high pitched way. ''It sounds like you want my protection after all.''

Baelfire smiled ruefully. He thought back to the boy who had given him the black eye, remembered his mocking tone. _Do you plan on hiding your cowardly self away with that monster as long as you live? Will your dear papa always be around to save your hide? _

Throwing insults and apples at the Dark One's son was a dangerous game. Baelfire's eye stung where one of the rotted fruits had struck him.

Yet the boy did not deserve his arm cut off or to spend the rest of his life as a gnat. And he certainly did not deserve death.

''It was an accident, Papa.''

The older man shook his head. ''There you go again, Bae. Trickery doesn't suit you. Who did it?''

''A teenage boy from the village. I don't know his name. He was throwing things and being obnoxious. I'm sure it won't happen again.''

''No…'' Rumplestiltskin responded, his eyes alight. ''No it won't.''

Baelfire sat up straight, understanding his father's intentions. ''Please spare him Papa.''

Rumplestiltskin eyed his son coolly. ''There is much you do not understand yet. Compassion is more a weakness than strength.''

The older man walked out of the room, leaving Baelfire without even offering to fix his eye. The dark-haired boy felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him.

Numb on the inside and pained on the outside, Baelfire fell asleep with this thought; _that boy will die because I can't make my own father listen to me. _

* * *

A.N) Hmmm... well, this was supposed to be a one-shot that delved deeper into the relationship between Baefire and Rumplestiltskin,but it ended up just a random scene between them. Oh well, the more fan fiction written about them the better.

Write On!


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